One Early Morning
by v2point0
Summary: G1. Ultra Magnus and Hot Rod just wanted to have a little buddy-to-buddy time, not expecting to be thrust into battle and other... intimate situations. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Man, I'm having trouble finding lots of fic between these two. D: Sad days. Either way, here's a little multi-chaptered ficcaroo I've produced. I believe it'll be either two or three chapters, though I want to say just two. Who knows. I certainly don't.

**Title**: One Early Morning  
**Rating**: M  
- _Chapter rating_: PG  
**Warnings**: Mild profanity and, well, mech sex. (Surprisingly, it's fluffy--INOWAT!?)  
- _Chapter warnings_: Very mild profanity. And a drunk Hot Rod.  
**Summary**: Ultra Magnus and Hot Rod just wanted to have a little buddy-to-buddy time, not expecting to be thrust into battle and other... intimate situations. Ultra Magnus/Hot Rod.  
**Disclaimer**: HA HA I OWN NOTHING.

**Author's Notes**: This fic takes place a few years before Daniel is born. Hot Rod has just recently been stationed in Autobot City alongside Kup, Arcee and Springer. They work directly under Magnus, who is of course commander of the city. I like to believe the three are like, his personal chosen three soldiers. But eh. So this can be considered an AU, though canon never really divulged into much detail anywho. Well, of course it's an AU: Magnus and Hot Rod are gay for each other. 9u6

**Time measurements**: In my lingo: vorn = year [or also a thousand years; it's versatile here!], orn = day, cycle = hour and klik = minute. A mega-mile is just a mile with a fancy technological word added unto it to sound more Transformer...-y. :P

Reviews and concrit = awesome. Flames = not so awesome, but you're welcome to speak your thoughts. Of course all I ask is you do so by sending your flames to **CrowTChickAtaolDOTcom**. Thank you very much and please excuse any grammatical and/or spelling errors. That and if anything may be OOC, well, oops. (Though any fic with slash that's not canon is OOC, OHOHOHO.)

* * *

**One Early Morning**

By B

Chapter 1

* * *

The control room was cold, empty, with the only emotions expressed by computers and machines. It smelt sterile, too, as if it was void of life; even the lights were dimmed.

Of course this totally made Hot Rod, Arcee and Springer feel extremely uncomfortable.

Ultra Magnus had just returned from a council meeting on Cybertorn, leaving his office lonely without his presence. He never expected to come back to Earth to this. Nonetheless, he was Prime's sub-commander and these were his soldiers, so he personally had to deal with them.

The giant blue and white Autobot stood before the three smaller 'bots, all lined up and standing tense. His hands behind his back, Ultra Magnus finally spoke after studying the weary trio for a few minutes.

"First, allow me to get things straight before we divulge any further."

The three just nodded compliantly.

"As I was told by Officer Kup, you three were instructed to keep watch as Ratchet and First Aid repaired recent Decepticon damage on Metroplex. Correct?"

The three nodded again.

"On the way to the location, you got sidetracked. One of you supposedly picked up faint Decepticon activity a few mega-miles away, even though energy signals of the previous battle nearly two cycles ago were still lingering. Correct?"

More nodding.

"One of you convinced the other two to check out the signal, even though you had been given _specific orders_ to attend to the two medics, as well as fully knowing other experienced officers had been assigned to handle any Decepticons while you three, still under training, were not permitted to go alone. Correct?"

This time, their nodding was a little more embarrassed.

"But after some convincing, disobeying your orders from Kup, which I passed down to him to give directly to you, you went off to trace the signal, even though, once more, soldiers in training must be accompanied by superiors into battlefield. Correct?"

Their heads bowed as they nodded, more shame sinking in.

Magnus began to pace up along the line of his nervous men. "Tracing a faint signal for nearly half a cycle, leaving Ratchet and First Aid completely without guard as they worked, you stumbled upon a small group of Decepticons, namely Dirge and his wingmates, on their way to a rendezvous with other Decepticons nearby, who just happened to be flying through Autobot air zones. Correct?"

They nodded.

Magnus turned and picked a holographic datapad from off his desk. He scanned it for a second before continuing: "The report here states that you managed to get information regarding their mission from Thrust, saying the three had been en route to pick up energon supplies from Swindle." He held up the datapad to them. "You all agree to what you wrote here?"

"Yes, sir," the trio replied in unison, Hot Rod lagging by a second.

Magnus noticed this and turned to the orange and yellow soldier. "You seem more tense than your companions here. Is there something you wish to tell me?" he asked, in a tone that was both firm but nice enough not to make the Autobot youngster feel anymore worse than he did right now.

Hot Rod stared at his feet for a second before raising his head, meeting Magnus square in the optics. "I'm the one who persuaded Arcee and Springer to track the signal with me," he informed. Arcee and Springer were both surprised at his confession; they had no plans of telling Magnus Hot Rod had been the impromptu leader of their forbidden detour. Hot Rod shuffled a little, but kept his optics connected with the taller mech. "They didn't want to go, but... Well, it's my fault. I took lead, and so, if you're gonna punish us, you should punish me alone. They were just worried because I guess I made the signal out to be something bigger."

"If punishments are to be given out," Arcee interrupted with a firm clearing of her vocals, "we _all_ get punished." Springer nodded in firm agreement. Hot Rod couldn't help but pass them a small, grateful smile.

Ultra Magnus studied Hot Rod for a moment, quiet and without expression. It made the younger soldier fidget slightly. "I am proud of you for stepping forward and admitting your role in this mishap," he said, pleasing Hot Rod a little. He looked to Arcee and Springer. "And you two for willing to join punishment as well as admitting your faults in the scheme as well."

The large mech then sat the datapad down. "However," he said, and they rose their heads again, "even if you were defeated, you did not suffer any fatal damages, to that which both Officer Kup and I am relieved to see." The least damage they got was Springer a sore shoulder, Arcee a few shots in the leg and Hot Rod's spoiler was singed black in patches. "The information you provided upon interrogation gave us a key location for one of Swindle's trading posts. Kup, Prowl, Jazz and I were there before any transactions could be made."

"Though we did not manage to catch any of the Decepticons," he continued, "we were able to claim half of the energon Swindle was up for selling. We discovered that just half of it would have given the Decepticons enough energon to last them for nearly twenty orns."

Hot Rod, Arcee and Springer widened their optics with surprise.

Magnus strolled up along the line again. "Tracing the origin of the energon," he explained, "we also discovered its source was from a small Autobot group situated outside Kaon. Upon investigation, we found the small base had been destroyed before they could contact us of the ambush just an orn before. There were five soldiers assigned to guarding the base; three had been deactivated, but the remaining two were seriously injured. Had we not sent help to retrieve them at the time we did, give or take another couple cycles and they would have been beyond repairing. Luckily, a few kliks before I called you into my office, I got a transmission from the medics that both of them were undergoing repairs and will recover given three or four orns."

The three sighed a little in relief.

"So," Magnus said and once again, they straightened, "even though you disobeyed your orders, went off on an unauthorized mission, took on Decepticons on your own and nearly risked your sparks, you also stopped an energon exchange between the Decepticons that no doubt will seriously hinder their group as well as supplied information to rescue two Autobots from near death." He paused for a second, hands behind his back again. The three figuratively held their breaths.

"I discussed your punishment with Kup," Magnus informed, "and we have decided to not sentence you to Earth community service nor punish you beyond this lecture." With this, his troops began smiling and it made him as well. "Your deeds, while still inexcusable and warranting of punishment for future incidents, were heroic. For that, we applaud you."

The three friends couldn't help but break out into a proud cheer. Springer and Hot Rod each gave each other a high five while Arcee just pressed a hand to her spark, relieved. "Nonetheless," Magnus interrupted, clearing his throat. The soldiers all went still and serious again. "Next time this happens, we will take serious action and you will be punished twice fold. When you are ordered to follow duties, you will _comply_ with them and pass any information you may have gathered to a superior, who will handle it in your place. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the trio said in unison, saluting.

"At ease," Magnus replied and his troops went back to cheering and relaxing. Magnus checked his chronometer. "According to today's schedule, you three are off duty for the rest of the orn. I strongly recommend you go apologize and thank Kup for the trouble and his decision not to punish you. I also advise avoiding Prowl, however, who disagreed with our actions and is quite upset still. Besides that..." He paused for a second. "You should congratulate yourselves, I suppose."

Springer beamed. "Hey, sounds like a good idea!" he exclaimed, looking to his buddies. "Let's go get ourselves some energon!" He then sheepishly smiled at Magnus. "If that's all right with you, sir..."

"Not a problem. You're all of legal age and off duty," Magnus assured.

Springer pumped a fist. "All right!" he cackled before pointing at Hot Rod. "Energon's on him!"

Hot Rod balked. "H-Hey! Wait a minute--!" he protested.

"You're the one who led us into the mission," Springer interrupted with a taunting sneer.

"Oh, cold," Hot Rod scowled, slightly irked.

Arcee giggled. "Besides," she said, placing a hand on Hot Rod's shoulder, "you're the one with the most chips saved up."

"Why do I feel like I'm being used?" Hot Rod moaned, dropping back his head. His friends just laughed at his expense, but he knew they meant no harm.

"Are we excused now, sir?" Springer asked, looking up to Magnus.

Magnus nodded. "You're excused," he agreed. He then shifted away, gesturing at some datapads. "I must return to work myself."

Springer and Arcee nodded before heading to the door. Hot Rod, however, lingered, watching Ultra Magnus shuffle through his datapads. "Come on, Roddy," Arcee called to him before she and Springer left, the door sliding shut.

Hot Rod just nodded thoughtlessly. It didn't seem Magnus knew he was there, having immediately gone into work mode. He tended to tune out the rest of the world when he was busy, something Hot Rod envied. It was amazing, both his patience and dedication to his job. Hot Rod found it admirable. He just continued to watch his superior, the blue and white mech quietly taking a seat at his giant computer, typing up a storm instantly.

Still, the younger soldier stayed. He studied Magnus as he practically slaved over his keyboard, a thousand clicks a moment, focused entirely on his typing. Every few seconds, he'd grab a datapad and copy its contents into the computer, into Metroplex's mainframe. According to Hot Rod's chronometer, it had been nearly ten kliks and still Magnus was busying himself, unaware of the other's presence still in the room. Hot Rod knew the sub-commander was just as aware of his surroundings and wouldn't be caught off guard from Decepticon ambush, but his systems picked up no harm and so he was free to focus all his attention on his duties without worry.

It was amazing, watching him work. Hot Rod had found himself stare countless times at Magnus in the past, just watching him give orders, discuss matters with others, sift through datapads, just... using all his energy to make sure everyone and everything else was in tip top shape. He was a perfect soldier, ideal leader material and the way Prime looked at him, talked to him, Hot Rod wouldn't be surprised if Prime ever needed to relieve himself as leader he would immediately assign Magnus to the task.

But according to Hot Rod's observations, while Magnus was perfectly capable to do dozens of things, he always seemed so damn modest. Sometimes when he was being flattered, offered positions, he usually refused or disagreed, usually because he felt that he was not quite qualified for all these gifts. But he also admitted he loved his current position, loved his job and the people he worked with. When Hot Rod overheard this during a gathering between other Autobot facilities on Earth, when Magnus said he "loved working with his companions," it made Hot Rod nearly choke on the energon he had snuck from the table.

Loved, huh? Hot Rod didn't know what made him so elated when he heard Magnus say that. Hot Rod was one of his soldiers, usually the one he assigned the task of leader to his compatriots. He meant a lot to him, so of course Hot Rod had to have been lumped up with the "people he loved." Yet there came some disappointment when he also realized Magnus was also referring to others, not just himself. This was silly, of course, Hot Rod told himself after he heard it. There was no need to be... to be... Jealous? Nah, not jealous, no way.

No way.

One time, Arcee had actually called out Hot Rod's fascination for Ultra Magnus. "You're his biggest fan," she said, sitting beside him as they kept a watch out for Decepticon invaders, "it's so obvious you like the big guy."

Hot Rod denied anything personal feelings underlying his appreciation. "He's my superior and a great soldier," he scowled with a puff of his cheeks, "_of course_ I'm gonna admire him a bit. He's a great role model."

Arcee rolled her optics. "Sure, suuure," she snickered and the subject was dropped.

Now, however, should Arcee have seen him staring so long and thoughtfully at Magnus, he knew there was no way he could hide the full extent of his appreciation. Watching a little more, Hot Rod had found himself mesmerized with Magnus's posture, his built. Not that this was new. Constant times Hot Rod had felt envious and awed by Magnus's powerful design and how it almost demanded respect. He was a lot like Prime in this aspect as well. So much so that many people upon meeting the two for the first time believed them to be brothers, even twins, just in different armor designs. Magnus always felt a little overwhelmed by being compared to Prime, especially when it came to looks.

Hot Rod saw it, too, but he also saw the uniqueness in his structure as well. The blues of his armor were stunning, sharp and piercing, the white pallor pearl. He looked so tough, so impenetrable, it was always shocking to see him sustain any damages or wounds.

Hot Rod found himself dwindling closer to the hunched over mech, wondering just how many times a day Magnus must wax himself to keep up such wonderful armor. Then again, it had to be natural, since the guy probably didn't have any time to do much of anything _but_ work. If that were true, Hot Rod was even more amazed. He took hours to always make sure he looked his best and sometimes others would taunt him and call him "Sunstreaker Junior" with how anal retentive he was about looking his best.

A little closer he drew, not fully realizing just how much distance he had covered. Soon Hot Rod was standing right behind Magnus, still typing away a storm. That armor, it just looked so... beautiful. He near mindlessly rose a hand, wondering just what that metal would feel like. Silky, smooth? Hard, cold? It was too much a desire for him to pass up.

Hot Rod felt a little shiver as he dared to move his hand in closer, towards Magnus's left shoulder. And just as his digits were about to brush against it--

"Sorry, Hot Rod, for ignoring you there for so long," Magnus said and Hot Rod not only snatched back his hand but moved about five feet back. Apparently his boss had been aware of his presence, just too caught up in his work to pay him any mind. Magnus turned in his chair, surprised to see the flustered look on Hot Rod's face. An expression of mild surprise and confusion crossed his faceplates. "Are you all right? Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked, slightly concerned.

The concern in his voice made Hot Rod swallow. But then he composed himself, grinning widely. "Sorry about sneakin' up on you like that," he apologized with a titter. "I was just wondering if you'd be willing to take a break and come have a drink with us?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not," Magnus apologized sincerely. He gestured to the datapads beside him. "I'm up to my audio receivers in reports. I probably won't be finished until late. You should go on without me and join your friends."

Hot Rod frowned a little, disappointed. Well, he should have expected this answer. But then that little grin reappeared. "Okay, well," he said, placing a fist in one open hand, "how about this? I'll go have a couple drinks with Arcee and Springer, and _then_ when you're finished, I'll wait and we can have a couple ourselves, okay?"

Magnus tilted his head. "But, as I said, these reports will take cycles," he repeated. "Waiting for me might be pointless, long."

Hot Rod snorted. "When I've got my processors set," he said, winking an optic, "I _never_ give up and my patience is surprisingly long, all things considered."

"Ah, well, all right then," Magnus agreed. "If I can, I will have a drink with you later," he said happily, softly.

Hot Rod pumped a fist. "All right!" he exclaimed. "It's a date--er!" He threw up his hands. "Er, uh, it's a deal then!" He made a coughing noise into his fist, cheeks glowing. Damn humans and their slang and vocabulary seeping into his processors.

Magnus was pretty oblivious to the meaning of "date," and just smiled and nodded. "It is. Now," he said, taking a datapad, "I must get back to work. Lots to do."

Hot Rod immediately clicked his heels together and saluted. "Yes, sir!" he shouted stoutly before rushing out of the room, just in time to get a private comm link from Springer demanding his whereabouts.

* * *

"Finished."

Magnus pushed himself away from his computer. All the piles of datapads were gone. Programs updated, reports filed, letters replied, appointments made, tomorrow's schedules and activities planned out perfectly. He had been so used to working himself late, he hardly knew what exhaustion was anymore. Still, he stood, stretching out the kinks in his shoulders and digits.

Just as he was shutting things down, he remembered: Hot Rod. Checking his chronometer quickly, he realized it was, according to Earth's time, close to 1 AM. It had been nearly six hours since the two last spoke. Surely the mech was recharging by now. Magnus felt a little bad about not being able to keep his promise, but he also knew he said "if he could" and that Hot Rod surely wouldn't hold this against him. They both knew he was very busy, after all.

Magnus made a mental note to repay Hot Rod later. Tomorrow he could squeeze in a drink with him around noon, when he was on his short break. If he recalled, Hot Rod had a break between his shifts at 12:34, about five minutes after Magnus's. That'd give them about fifteen kliks to just enjoy each other's company.

Truth be told, Magnus really looked forward to it. He had also really looked forward to having that drink tonight as well. Hot Rod tended to be brash, sometimes temperamental and a handful. Not a lot of people older than him could agree or get along with him. It wasn't as if he questioned or rebelled against authority, persay. And yet Hot Rod was one of the most brightest, funniest, kindest mechs around, friend to dozens.

Hot Rod was still very young and bound to need room to stretch his wings, so to speak. It was quite sad that Hot Rod had been born in an age of war, robbing him a lot of the years he needed to really grow up and enjoy his youth. No, he had been thrust into the role of a soldier for as long as his memory chips could recall.

It was unfair, but Hot Rod, despite everything, did love his job, loved being a warrior, loved protecting his people and friends. He had determination, skill and enthusiasm and yet he still retained a personality outside the war, still managed to find time to laugh and pull pranks. While Magnus could live without some of the pranks, he admired the young soldier for both taking his job seriously and yet not allowing it to tear him down. Sometimes Magnus wondered if there was a time where working and planning and fighting were distant to his cares, a time where he might have been able to take long relaxing trips and play jokes on his friends. It seemed, however, all these years had shaped and molded him into just a soldier.

Hot Rod, however, appeared to look beyond that. He respected him, Magnus knew, but he also liked to consider him a friend. Instead of just leaving when he was dismissed, Hot Rod casually asked his superior to come out for a drink, to join the fun, as if they were the best of buddies. It was flattering and it made Magnus feel not only welcomed but that there was hope in his people. If Hot Rod could fight with a smile on his face, he hoped so would others.

There'd been times where Magnus had wanted to see what made Hot Rod tick. In his alt mode, he was sleek, fast and powerful, calling for attention and Magnus could not ignore him. His bright colors reflected a bright and joyous personality. Magnus didn't mind his own colors, but sometimes they felt so typical, blended with the background. But Hot Rod stuck out like a sore thumb and Magnus, like a moth drawn to light, had always had this nagging desire in the back of his constantly running cerebral processor, something so illogical and silly, but it was there and it was telling him to just... touch Hot Rod. Touch his shoulder, his spoiler and see if it was hot like the sun, see if it was warm like sunlight.

Sometimes, though he had never really noticed it, there was some sort of... emotion he felt when he saw Hot Rod's friends casually pat his back, touch his shoulder, poke or nab at his spoiler. If he had studied this emotion, he would have known it was jealousy. But no, it couldn't be jealousy.

No way.

Magnus decided just to stop thinking too hard about such useless things. Hot Rod was a valuable soldier and friend of his and that was all he needed to consider and know. Magnus turned the light off before stepping outside, turning and punching a locking code on the control pad by the door. Just as he was about to leave--

"Whoa-oh, woke me up there!"

Magnus turned, surprised, to look up and see Hot Rod lounging out on a small roof of the building adjacent of his office. Hot Rod sat up quickly, systems whirring as his optics glowed.

"What are you doing out here, Hot Rod?" Magnus asked, still surprised.

Hot Rod grunted as he jumped off the roof, landing perfectly on his feet. "I told you I'd wait for you," he answered, hands up. He walked up to Magnus, saying, "And I did. I honestly thought it'd be morning when you'd finally come out! Well, y'know, sun-out-and-all morning, that is."

Magnus was still consumed with shock. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Uh," Hot Rod mumbled, thinking, "aboooout... ah, five cycles."

"Why?" Magnus asked, keeping his jaw from unlocking permenantly. Hot Rod had been sitting there, waiting for him the entire time? "Why did you not go back to your quarters? You didn't need to wait for me. You didn't even know when I'd be done."

Hot Rod laughed softly. "I told you, sir," he said with a wag of his finger, "when my mind's made up, I see it through, no matter what or how long it takes." He grinned widely. "Besides, I only drank a little so I could make room to drink more with you. And it so happens I'm still really craving me some of that fine grade energon." He paused, his smile faltering with embarrassment. "Well, unless you don't want to, then..."

"No, no," Magnus quickly retorted, raising a hand. "No, it's not that. I would like a drink. I was just... surprised that you'd wait for me for so long," he murmured.

"Don't think about it, it didn't feel that long anyway," Hot Rod reassured. He walked up beside Magnus, smiling up at him again. "And Primus knows you need a drink."

Magnus just soundlessly followed Hot Rod off to the bar. The surprise managed to finally wear thin. "I haven't had a nice drink in... well, I can't remember the last time," he informed, chuckling.

"Man! You must be dehydrated of some good stuff!"

"Haha, you think so?"

Hot Rod sniffed snobbishly. "I know so!"

"I suppose you do," Magnus retorted and grinned.

* * *

Metroplex was mostly a battle fortress, but he had a few places of escape his companions could visit when in need of some off time. One of them included a small bar, just one. It was situated at the far end of Metroplex, away from the training arenas, gyms and a stone's throw away from personal quarters and offices.

It was simple enough, nothing too extravagant, comfortable and homey with a sophisticated touch of smooth black and white. The room was divided between a bar and a restaurant, where a few tables and chairs had been seated. A series of drones worked and tended to the bar, also serving and handling various costumers coming in for just something to snack on. Though they were drones, they were still considered Autobots and were even given time off as well as money, though time off consisted of them just recharging for more work and all money went to bettering and keeping the bar fixed up and well supplied. But they weren't complaining either way.

When Hot Rod and Magnus sat at the bar, a drone instantly recognized them and knew exactly what they wanted by past visits. No orders need be made as seconds later, two cubes of specialized energon of the 'bot's favorites were placed in front of them. Magnus was surprised the drone remembered what he had drank the first and last time he was here, a time he still could not recall himself. Their programing was mostly dedicated to pleasing their costumers, so it was no surprise they memorized past experiences in their memory banks for future reference.

It started off a little awkward between the two, neither quite sure who should start the conversation and what exactly to bring up. But a minute later, Hot Rod was back into full swing and talkative, bringing up whatever came to his processor. Magnus found himself catching up with his train of thoughts quite quickly and also found himself pleasantly enjoying their idle and pointless chats about whatever popped up.

They talked about work, about past battles, about things they had done, things they wanted to do, mess ups and slip ups and victories as well as failures, but they never ventured into anything too deep. They didn't even notice they had gone through three cubes all ready.

However, each Autobot had a strange reaction when companions were brought up. When Hot Rod brought up Springer and Arcee and all his other friends, Magnus listened and responded when need be, but that weird sense of jealousy was ticking in the back of his head again. And when Magnus brought up a mission with Prime, an interesting discussion with Kup, Hot Rod found himself anxious for the stories to end and subjects be changed, as if he didn't want to hear about all the fun times he had with others.

This led them then to talk about the fun times they had with each other. Magnus brought up a time where Hot Rod had accidentally fallen into a vat of tar on a distant planet and how he had to pull him out, how it took cycles and how in the end, they both returned to Metroplex covered in black, sticky tar. Hot Rod told Magnus about the time when, during a battle, Magnus got stuck in his alt form, tires blown and Hot Rod was forced to tow him back to base. Neither Autobot felt offended or embarrassed by these stories, however and they just laughed, amused by their mistakes instead of ashamed.

They had lost track of time, surprising Magnus and even the amount of energon they had consumed. It was about six now before Hot Rod began showing some... interesting symptoms from drinking way too much.

"But you knooow," Hot Rod sniggered and looked lopsidedly at his half-empty cube, "it's-it's always fun, really. No matter how scary it... it gets, you always gotta-gotta look for the fun in things." He then took another long chug, sitting back afterwards with something akin to a long exhale. "Ahhh, yeah, I always got-gotta find the fun."

Magnus nodded slightly. "I can't blame you, especially at your age," he said, before tapping a finger on the bar. It caught the attention of a nearby drone, who hovered over. Magnus asked for the tab as Hot Rod just lounged back in his seat, chuckling about nothing in general. As the drone calculated the bill, Magnus looked over to Hot Rod. "All right, Hot Rod. It's all ready too late, but we're drawing closer to dawn in a few cycles. I'm afraid we've stayed out a bit too long and had a bit too much to drink." He could hold his energon well, but still felt a little buzz.

"Boo," Hot Rod grunted, dropping a hand on his face. "I don't start duties until ff-five more cycles. I can stay another half a cycle." Before Magnus could say anything, Hot Rod then threw an arm around his shoulders, causing the former to widen his optics in alarm. "Y-You can spare another half cycle too, c-can't you?" Hot Rod slurred, poking a finger against Magnus's chest.

Magnus felt uncomfortable. He could clearly smell the energon staining the inside of Hot Rod's mouth, emitting a thick stench that made Magnus light headed. Not to mention, his arm slung around him, his body so close... "You're over-energized, you know," Magnus informed, gently pushing him back. The drone's view screen for optics flashed up the price for their drinks. "If you drink anymore, you'll be too sick to work tomorrow. I, and especially Kup, would not want that," the blue and white mech continued, producing chips and handing them to the drone.

The drone went to take away their cubes before Hot Rod grabbed his. "W-Wait, there's still some left," he muttered, optics dim. The drone just stared at him, computing the information he was just fed. If the costumer wanted to finish it, then he would need to comply. As he was going to leave with just Magnus's empty cube, the older robot slowly pushed the cube away from his soldier.

"I think you've had enough now," Magnus said calmly and Hot Rod just stared blankly at him. Since Magnus was obviously the superior, the drone obeyed him and took away Hot Rod's cube.

Hot Rod groaned when it was gone and dropped his head on the bar. "Maaaan..." he sighed, upset.

Magnus found his hand slowly reaching for Hot Rod's shoulder. He paused. This was his chance... He recoiled his hand a second later. "Once we get outside, a little walk will help work out the energon," he explained, before carefully helping the slouching Hot Rod from the bar. Hot Rod moaned as he felt the excess energon drop into his legs, causing them to grow heavy. "Can you walk on your own?" Magnus asked.

"I-I think so," Hot Rod replied with a sniff.

He did fairly well at first. Magnus took lead and helped him outside. The cold night air hit Hot Rod like prickling ice, his chassis clinging to the warmth from all the energon. They began their walk off to Hot Rod's quarters, which wasn't too far a distance away, when Hot Rod suddenly stopped, still slouching. Magnus turned to face him. "Are you all right?" he inquired, moving forward wearily.

"I, uh," Hot Rod hummed, rubbing his helm. He tittered. "I can't seem to move... I think my equilibrium chip is finally shot," he said. He tried to move; he succeeded in taking a step forward, but the second left him stumbling forward.

Magnus quickly intervened, running forward to catch Hot Rod in his arms. The orange soldier fell right against his chest and both Autobots felt their cheekplates warm up. Magnus was shocked; though he figured as much, it was still a surprise that Hot Rod was as warm as he felt. Or it could just be all that energon. For a minute, the two did not move, Magnus's arms still wrapped around Hot Rod, Hot Rod still lounging weakly against his chest, arms pulled up beside him.

It almost looked like the cover of some trashy romance novel Springer and Hot Rod found in a box of Carly's junk she was throwing away. A masculine, blank-faced, shirtless man clutching a wanton girl with flowing hair in a purple, loose dress against his glimmering bare chest, flames burning in the background. It was so embarrassing an image that it quickly made Hot Rod push back. "T-Thanks for catching me," he smirked, yet he found his hands still holding onto Magnus's forearms.

"Looks like you're going to need a little help after all," Magnus chuckled.

Hot Rod felt really embarrassed. "A-A little," he said quietly. He scratched at the side of his nose. "I-I don't mean to ask for help, but..."

"It's not a problem," Magnus quickly assured. Besides, he missed that warmth... The two silently made an agreement and Magnus crouched a little, allowing Hot Rod to slide his arm back over his shoulders again, Magnus keeping hold of it, his other arm pressed against Hot Rod's back. "You think you're ready?" the blue and white mech asked.

"Better than laying here and ho-hoping someone'll drag me to my berth," Hot Rod sniggered.

The two then continued on their way, Hot Rod relying on Magnus's support, the other keeping up a slow pace for him to follow. They didn't speak a word for a few minutes, concentrating on just walking without one losing balance. It was only until a night guard gave them a weird stare as he walked by did Hot Rod snicker again and say, "I bet we're a sight for sore optics. Sub-commander Ultra Magnus havin' to carry his over-energized suul-soldier to his bunker. I dunno if I'm more embarrassed than y-you."

"Don't be," Magnus assured, continuing to walk the stumbling Autobot along. "It's my duty to take care of my soldiers. Besides, it wasn't as if you did this without my permission. Perhaps without my approval, but not without permission."

Hot Rod just laughed again. "I'm jus' glad Springer's not here, or Arcee," he said softly, "they'd never lemme live this down."

"They're probably so deep in recharge, they won't know until the morning," Magnus said with a soft chuckle, "when you're working out all that energon."

Hot Rod groaned. "Oh, don't remind m-me..." Certainly, in a few hours, he'd be rolling in pain.

Again, it was quiet and once more, it was Hot Rod who broke the silence. Not by speaking, but by suddenly pushing more of his weight against Magnus's side then dropping the side of his head against his arm. Magnus swallowed a little. He was so warm, and even soft. "Are you all right still, Hot Rod?" Magnus questioned, stopping.

Hot Rod's optics switched on again and he snorted. "Y-Yeah, sorry. I just f-felt a little woozy and needed to rest my head. S-Sorry about that..." he explained, going to raise his head.

"No, no, it's fine," Magnus said quickly, stopping Hot Rod from pulling completely back. "You can rest your head on my arm if you need to. It's okay."

Hot Rod blinked before smiling shyly. "T-Thanks," he slurred before, ever so slowly, laying his head back against Magnus's arm, not quite tall enough to reach his shoulder. Magnus remained quiet as they continued onward, just a few more corridors until they arrived at the young soldier's quarters. "I'll try not to--not to fall into recharge," Hot Rod laughed softly, though his optics were beginning to dim again.

Magnus found himself, despite everything, quite... comfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever gotten into a situation like this. Something so... normal, almost. He remembered hearing from Spike that on days off, the human would go out to have a drink with a buddy and just sit back and breathe.

Breathing... Transformers didn't need to breathe, but yet, the other definition it suggested, to "relax," seemed so... nice. And Magnus wanted to know what that was like--now here, even if circumstances weren't perfect, he was beginning to know what living a carefree life was like. Too bad moments like these were rare and far and few in between. He just hoped Hot Rod was functional enough for work tomorrow.

And everything was peaceful, between them, between the base, between every living and non-living entity around. And it would have stayed that way if---

Ultra Magnus twitched when something on Hot Rod suddenly starting ringing in a shrill whine. It immediately woke Hot Rod from his slumber, causing him to leap out of Magnus's arms, yanking a small piece of equipment from an arm compartment. "Holy slag, they didn't find it!" he exclaimed, optics blazing full blue again.

"What is it, Hot Rod?"

Hot Rod showed him the device; it looked like a small remote with a little sonar screen on it. The green screen was scanning a single white dot soaring slowly across the field. "When we were fighting those Decepticons earlier," Hot Rod explained, seemingly returning back to fully functional with alarm, "I managed to planet this tracking device on Dirge. It's really small, something new that Perceptor was fooling around with. I guess it really works--they didn't detect or find it." He then paused and rubbed the back of his helm sheepishly. "I, uh, I just borrowed it. I planned on giving it back, seriously."

Magnus didn't want to know what Hot Rod was planning on using the tracking device for originally, but was deeply intrigued. He took the remote and looked over the screen. "The coordinates on this map--they're about fifteen mega-miles from Metroplex."

"What would Dirge be out doing at this time of... uh, morning?" Hot Rod wondered. "He's probably not alone. Probably going by orders; others on their way to back him up."

"At this time, Metroplex is still in recharge," Ultra Magnus hummed, stroking his chin. "And the reason the alarm hasn't sounded is because Dirge is two mega-miles off from Autobot air zone territory. Whatever it is he plans on doing, it's not to attack the base nor attract any attention."

Hot Rod added, "Not to mention, the location he's flying in isn't too far from where we did the raid."

"What would he be doing at that location again?" Magnus inquired. "Swindle wouldn't make the mistake of returning back to that area. There's nothing there--we cleaned it out and everything."

"Well, humans say criminals always return to the scene of the crime anyway," Hot Rod added. "It could be there _is_ something there that we missed."

Magnus nodded. "We should gather Bluestreak and Bumblebee for investigation, since their shift is starting in a--"

Hot Rod interrupted him, raising a hand. "I think we can do this job on our own," he insisted. "I mean, Dirge wouldn't last two kliks with you, and I doubt he's bringing more than just his two coneheaded goons with him."

"Still, we can't be too sure--"

"Come on, Magnus!" Hot Rod exclaimed, beaming. "It's been so long since we last worked together, just the two of us. Not since that boring recon mission in Nevada. We're enough to take them on!"

Magnus shook his head. "It's too risky to--"

"Then you can go get the others," Hot Rod said, his voice a little haughty. He leapt forward, transforming into his alt mode. His engines revved with a loud roar. "I'll go on ahead!" he stated, before with a loud snarl, he took a tight turn and shot across the base, heading for the exit.

Magnus widened his optics. "Hot Rod, wait!" he shouted, raising a hand. He scowled slightly. Really, now, this kid... Ultra Magnus got on his comm link, calling back-up.

"Bumblebee reporting," the yellow bug said tiredly, "need anything, Magnus?"

"Yes. I need you and Bluestreak to meet up with me at these coordinates," Magnus said, adding the coordinates Dirge had been flying in. "We believe Dirge and possibly other Decepticons are currently in the area for unknown reasons. Hot Rod and I are on our way to investigate. Report to the site as soon as possible and get back to me when you're within half a mega-mile."

"Yes, sir!" Bumblebee retorted cheerfully.

"Magnus out," the blue and white mech finished before cutting the transmission. "Hot Rod, you're going to push your luck too far one day..." he said, transforming into truck mode and following the trails of exhaust and dust his soldier left behind.

* * *

T/B/C


	2. Chapter 2

Here's chapter 2, a'ite. Thanks for your reviews and faves. You guys are pretty sexy. ;D

**WARNINGS**: Perhaps mild violence, a sprinkle of profanity? Nothing really. The next chapter is the conclusion and FULL OF THE GAY. Well, okay, there's a surprise kiss in here.

* * *

**One Early Morning**

By B

Chapter 2

* * *

Magnus caught up with Hot Rod a few minutes later, which was remarkable considering how fast the sports car was going. Their headlights flooded the miles of forest and grasslands, the dawn sluggishly crawling up from distant mountains, making the sky half black and glowing yellow.

"Next time, listen to me when I tell you to stay put," Magnus commanded as he drove side by side with the orange car.

"I apologize, sir," Hot Rod replied, sincerely. "It's just, I didn't want to lose the signal," he said. "Dirge may not have the fastest of processors, but he's still got the speed of an F-15."

"Apology accepted," Magnus retorted, "Bumblebee and Bluestreak have been dispatched. They should be joining us shortly."

Hot Rod gave a small hybrid of a smirk and grunt. "Yeah, good," he said thoughtlessly.

The two drove for a few more miles in silence, their engines growling. It was Magnus's turn to speak up. "How are you feeling?" he inquired. "Your over-energized state might make you incapable of taking part in any ensuing confrontations."

"I'm doin' a lot better," Hot Rod insisted. "You could say, well, this sorta slapped me sober." His headlights flickered playfully. "Really, Magnus, I'm good. I can fight--you know, if there's a fight, heh."

"If I find you're in no position to, however," Magnus said, firmly, "then you will step down as commanded. Do I make myself clear?"

Hot Rod knew he was being serious. "Yes, sir," he retorted quietly.

"Just don't push yourself too hard, all right?"

Hot Rod's headlights glowed a little brighter. "... I-I won't, sir."

* * *

Within a mile from the site, Magnus ordered for Hot Rod to transform. Complying, the two drove behind a patch of trees, shifting into their robot modes, guns equipped. They peeked out from their post, watching the skies. Not a moment too soon did a blue and yellow jet come soaring by, before transforming into Dirge in mid-air, landing with a gust of dirt beneath his feet. Hot Rod went to speak to his commander before Magnus rose a hand, hushing him. Two more jets appeared, smoothly landing on the ground and transforming: Ramjet and Thrust.

Of course, nothing could be simple.

Dirge checked the holographic map beaming from his wrist. "According to the coordinates Swindle supplied, we should be standing right above it," he said, looking down at his pedes.

Magnus and Hot Rod looked at each other, confused.

_Do you know what Dirge is talking about?_ Magnus inquired through a private comm link.

Hot Rod responded: _No idea._

Magnus activated his own scanner, before spotting something buried ten feet beneath the ground around the circle of Seekers. It was rather large; ten feet in length and sixteen in width. _It looks like there's a small space ship buried under the ground,_ he explained. _Not sure of its designation, if it even has one._

_What about the contents? Can you scan them?_ Hot Rod asked, keeping his optics transfixed on the Decepticons, his digits itchy against his gun's trigger.

Magnus gave it another thorough scanning. He could see it was filled with something, but could not recognize what. _I'm not sure. There's definitely something, but I don't recognize the property._ He paused to give the buried ship another extensive scan before his blue optics dimmed. _I'm going to send the images to Perceptor. He should be able to determine what they are._

_Whatever it is_, Hot Rod said, _the Decepticons really seem to want it._

_Then it must be something immensely powerful or immensely dangerous._

Dirge ordered the group to begin digging. Hot Rod and Magnus decided to stay hidden until they recovered or got close to the ship. Hot Rod had wanted to just dive right into a battle, but Magnus kept him at bay with a firm hand on his shoulder. Hot Rod obeyed, but not without fidgeting anxiously.

The Seekers dug half way to their destination within ten minutes before scrambling as Thrust dropped a small cluster bomb into the hole. Ultra Magnus pulled Hot Rod down as the bomb exploded in just a few seconds. Dirt and chunks of earth flew everywhere, but the explosion wasn't bad enough to damage anything critical, but good enough to uncover the rest of the ship. Magnus and Hot Rod adjusted their vision to zoom in as close as possible, the three jets moving around their finding.

_It looks Cybertronian_, Hot Rod suggested.

Magnus nodded slightly. _I don't detect any signals of life. Plus, it's showing no signs of familiar programing; it might not even be sentient. It must be a cargo ship._

A moment later, Magnus received another private transmission. Hot Rod kept his optics glued on the three grunting and hissing as they tried to yank the jet from its prison. _Bumblebee here,_ the yellow Autobot informed as soon as Magnus picked up the transmission, _Bluestreak and I are within half a mega-mile of the coordinates you gave us._

_Good. Proceed into stealth mode. We're located--_

Before Magnus could finish giving his directions, Thrust stood upright, dropping the cargo ship's wing on Ramjet's foot. Ramjet shrieked, letting his part go to jump around, squeezing his foot. "Sunnavaglitch!" he hissed. "What the Pit are you--!?"

"I'm picking up Autobot signals!" Thrust snapped. Hot Rod and Ultra Magnus cocked their guns, ready to charge. "It's comin' from 'bout half a mega-mile away! I can hear 'em, too!" he growled, engines revving.

The two found it oddly funny they had not yet detected their own presence. Perhaps it had been all the foliage, where as it was open land not too far a distance where Bumblebee and Bluestreak were located.

"Perfect," Dirge sighed, slapping a hand on his face. He snapped his fingers at Thrust. "Go investigate then. Call Ramjet for backup if there's somethin' out there."

Thrust nodded, transformed into jet mode and took off. Magnus quickly went back to Bumblebee's transmission. _Fall back!_ he ordered. _Thrust has picked up your signal!_

_Oh, man, and I thought we had ourselves covered pretty good!_ Bumblebee whined. But the transmission ended as Bumblebee and Bluestreak quickly found somewhere to hide until the opportune time to strike.

Hot Rod turned to Magnus. _Should we attack now? One for one. It's perfect._

Magnus shook his head. _Not just yet. I'm waiting for Perceptor to return with his analysis on the ship's cargo. It could possibly be dangerous._

_Yeah, I guess..._ Hot Rod was disappointed, needless to say.

The two were forced to watch as Ramjet and Dirge went about trying to decode the lock on the ship. This got them nowhere, as every possible code they could think of was denied. Still, they struggled, punching in combinations for a few minutes before getting angry and kicking and striking it. Magnus waited for any sort of transmission from Bumblebee, but all the lines were quiet.

Suddenly, the private line Magnus had used for the yellow bug released a loud _skzzzt_ followed by the sound of an explosion and hiss of a laser firing, before dying again. Magnus knew that wasn't a good sign and Hot Rod looked to him, suspecting something. Magnus spoke to him in their private link: _Bumblebee just sent a transmission. Apparently something is going on. He didn't say anything; probably too busy fighting, but I think he wanted us to know they've been--_

"Thrust here! I've made contact with two Autobots!"

Magnus and Hot Rod snapped up their attention as Ramjet and Dirge stood quickly. "Who are they!?" Dirge demanded.

"The yellow git and one of the Datsun lose--_aarggh_!" Thrust never finished as Bluestreak's gun shot him in the wing.

"Frag!" Dirge cursed. He looked to Ramjet. "Go off and help the idiot! I'll take care of the rest here!"

"Yeah, yeah," Ramjet grumbled before transforming and flying off.

Hot Rod watched the Seeker disappear then looked back at Magnus. _You think we should go out there now? Two to one. It'll be quick, I think._ He rose his gun for emphasis.

_Never underestimate your enemies_, Magnus replied, _especially Decepticons_. Nonetheless, when Hot Rod saw him equip his gun, he could feel the anxiety rising, dying to be released. _Still, you're right; now would be the time to strike. As soon as we take out Dirge, secure the ship_.

_Yes, sir!_ Hot Rod beamed.

The two Autobots got into battle stance. _Are you ready?_ Magnus asked, finger on his trigger. _On the count of three, aim and fire at Dirge. It's not very honorable, but there's no telling what's in that ship and if he can use it against us._

Hot Rod merely gave him an "a-okay" sign. Magnus did not understand such a human gesture, but he assumed Hot Rod understood him anyway. The two tensed as Dirge scratched at his conehead, eyeing the ship.

_One..._

Dirge then came up with a plan.

_Two..._

The Seeker stretched out his arms, his null rays pointed at the shuttle, ready to fire.

"Three!" Magnus shouted, causing Dirge to jump. But before he could turn his guns on the Autobots crashing out of the trees and bushes, Magnus and Hot Rod each fired a shot at him, hitting him dead on in the chest. Dirge released a loud screech, toppling over, smoke billowing from his wound. Hot Rod stood in front of the fallen Seeker, keeping his gun on him as Magnus went to the ship.

Magnus knelt beside it, scanning the contents again. "Whatta make of it, Magnus?" Hot Rod asked, optics locked on the groaning Decepticon.

"I'm still not positive on the what, but I can tell you it's emitting a large quantity of radiation," Magnus explained, quickly standing away from the shuttle. "The metal used to construct this ship is much thicker than normally used on Cybertornian aircrafts, probably locking away most of the radioactivity. This level isn't harmful to us, but I sense organic life forms could easily be killed by it if exposed to it for a long period of time."

Dirge hissed as he sat up on his elbows, Hot Rod tapping his digit on the trigger to remind him of his position. "You--don't you touch that, you slagging Autobot!" the Seeker snapped. "It belongs to the Decepticons now!"

"'Now'?" Hot Rod repeated, cocking an optic ridge.

Magnus noticed there were no insignias on the ship. "So this must be stolen, I take it," he wondered.

Hot Rod looked back at him in alarm. "What if it was, is, an Autobot carg--"

"Don't worry about the ship, Autobot! Worry about _yourself_!" Dirge growled before taking the opportunity from Hot Rod's distraction to kick the gun from his hand. Hot Rod turned back to see Dirge pounce on top of him, knocking the orange mech to the ground.

Magnus quickly went to take action, aiming his gun at the two. However, they were rolling around, constantly shifting positions, allowing Magnus no perfect shot without risking hitting Hot Rod. Finally, however, Hot Rod managed to flip Dirge beneath him, decking him across his faceplate. "You're getting rusty, Dirge old buddy," he taunted with a sneer.

Dirge groaned, a dent in his left cheek. "Y-You talk bold for a sparkling," he snorted, before his feet turbines roared to life, causing him to shoot out from underneath Hot Rod. He was too fast for Hot Rod to grab, floating above him with null rays pointed at his head. Now he was the one grinning devilishly. "I'll show you how _real_ soldiers fight."

"You forgot about me, Dirge."

Dirge widened his optics and looked aside, just as Magnus fired his gun at him. The blue and yellow Seeker shrieked and shot mindlessly back, his aim thrown off as the laser struck his abdomen. The ray hit the shuttle, causing it to jolt and something to start ticking.

As Dirge started to flutter to the ground, Hot Rod took the opportunity to round kick him in the back, sending the Seeker hitting the ground hard, face first, his wings twitching. There came another muffled sound of pain from the Earth, Hot Rod sidling over to him. "Oh, too bad you weren't able to share your wisdom with me, gramps," he sniggered.

Magnus however, was less concerned about gloating and more about the ticking noise the ship was emitting. Walking over to the site it was struck, he pried away a thin layer of metal, shocked to see a small control panel making the noises; a countdown from 5:50 activated, going down by a numeral every second. The truck quickly looked back at Hot Rod, shouting, "It's a bomb!"

Hot Rod jolted, running over to take a look at it. Dirge painfully pulled his wrist to his face, grumbling, "D-Dirge to S-Starscream, c-come in St--" But a shot from Hot Rod's laser into his helm knocked him out cold before he could finish the transmission.

"Slag," the young Autobot spat, "don't they know how to _quit_?"

"Right now, we need to focus on deactivating the bomb," Magnus insisted. Going by his knowledge and past experience, he carefully opened the panel... Only instead of seeing a maze of multicolored wires, they were all pitch black in color, making it impossible to decide which deactivated the bomb. He checked the time again: 5:23.

Magnus looked up at Hot Rod, hanging there nervously, confused about what he should do. "Contact Bumblebee and Bluestreak," the larger mech ordered. "See if they need back-up. I'll--"

"Ultra Magnus! Can you read me, Ultra Magnus!?"

That was Perceptor on his comm. "Ultra Magnus speaking," Magnus said, accepting the transmission, "did you identify the content of the ship?"

"Yes! That shuttle contains 89.7 mass-pounds of meta-energon from the planet Utonian. Six orns ago, I had contacted an Autobot unit situated on the planet regarding their new finding of meta-energon: energon doubled with more power than regular energon!" Perceptor explained, sounding strangely breathless and nervous. "According to my consultant Quest, it was half of what remained of their discovery and upon my curiosity, he insisted on shipping me a small portion of it to use to help fuel Metroplex. While I disagreed, considering the sheer overwhelming power would be dangerous if it fell into Decepticon hands--"

"Get to the point, Perceptor," Magnus ordered, managing to sound cool and controlled, "why is it here then?"

"I assume Quest sent it to me irregardless of my refusal. According to the images you transmitted, the thick casing helped to conceal the content, make it appear as simply just a spare transportation shuttle, hoping not to arouse any Decepticon interest. I'm certain it must be this, since he was aware of the news regarding multiple raids on Decepticon underground trading. If it was never to find its way to us, eventually Decepticons would attempt to open it, only to be greeted by a countdown of a bo--"

Magnus jolted. "You know of the bomb!?"

"Y-Yes. Every package I've received from Quest contains a bomb for security measures that activate by near 6 kliks upon opening. However, if the material arrives in the right hands, then we should have the password that will terminate it instant--"

Hot Rod stepped forward, shouting, "Well, the bomb's been activated and we're near four minutes now!"

"What? You opened it!?"

"No," Magnus replied, "Dirge activated it when he hit it with his null ray. That's not the problem--what's the code to deactivate it?"

"Quest recently sent me a transmission regarding a code five orns ago, but we had not discussed any transactions. I should have it he--"

Perceptor's voice turned to static. "Perceptor?" Magnus spoke. There was no reply, just more white noise. "Perceptor, are you there?" he asked again before attempting to reconnect the transmission. Nothing but static.

"Magnus! Look!"

Magnus turned from Hot Rod to the ship, noticing not only were they down to nearly three minutes, but the ship was glowing a soft green aura. "The radiation has increased, possibly in anticipation for explosion," the blue and white mech cursed, clenching a fist. "It's probably messing with our connections."

Hot Rod attempted to contact Perceptor, but got the same result. "Slag!" he snapped, stomping a foot.

The clock was racing, the time at 3:37. Magnus studied the big, bold red numerals in Cybertronian, then the humming, glowing ship. Finally, he turned back to Hot Rod, who was twitching uncomfortably, itching to do _something_. "Hot Rod," he said suddenly, causing the young soldier to jump, "you go and assist Bumblebee and Bluestreak. By now I'm sure the Decepticons have called back-up and neither of them have contacted us about their status."

Hot Rod stared at him in shock. "Y-You're not suggesting I _leave_ you!?" he blanched.

"I can handle this," Magnus said calmly, "I've worked with code controlled bombs before. If you wish to help, leave the area and contact Perceptor to send an expert with the deactivation code." He studied the keyboard of numbers. "I think I might be able to temporarily freeze it--"

"You _can't_ stay here!" Hot Rod snapped. He stepped closer to his commander. "If you do, you might--" He shook his head, not wanting to think of what could happen. "We'll leave together!"

"The explosion would be too big just to leave it," Magnus disagreed. "Like I said, I'll try to stall it." He thought for a moment. "If it hits the 2 minute mark, I'll take the ship away from the area and let it--"

"--Explode with you!?" Hot Rod interrupted. Magnus did not reply. The younger soldier stared at him as the timer hit 2:59. "Look," he said slowly, "if this is how it's going to be..." He rose his hands and knelt beside Magnus before the bomb and glowing ship. "Then let me stay instead."

Magnus stared at him, awed. "But you--"

"Kup installed so many lectures about disassembling bombs into my memory banks that I'm sure I've got the same chance of stalling it as you do," Hot Rod snickered, shrugging. His smile grew a little sad. "Besides, if one of us has to sacrifice ourselves, then let it be me. You're too important to lose."

Magnus felt both shock and disgust creep into his spark. "How could you...!?" he growled, taking Hot Rod's arm and squeezing it. Hot Rod cast him a wide eyed look. "How _dare_ you demean your life like that, as if it's any less important than anyone else's!" the truck seethed, and his anger caused a shiver to run down Hot Rod's backbone infrastructure. He then noticed the fear in his comrade's optics, causing him to slowly let his arm go, frown disappearing. "I--I apologize for lashing out at you like that. I can understand what you must be feeling, but to say what you did..." he whispered.

Hot Rod stared at him, optics softening. "Magnus...?"

Magnus looked to the timer. "2:21," he said and pulled Hot Rod up, pushing him away. "Go! I'm going to try and stall it while you contact Perceptor!"

"Magnus!" Hot Rod hissed. "You can't--"

Ultra Magnus just ignored him. "I told you the next time I give you an order, you follow it!" he snarled. Hot Rod took a step back as Magnus pointed away. "Now obey your commanding officer and _retreat_!"

Hot Rod stared at him, watching him return to the bomb. Nearly two minutes. Hot Rod bit together his dental plates, stumbling from moving back and moving forward. He knew even if he had left earlier to contact Perceptor, the distance he'd need to go from the radiation's level would take up too much time. Returning to deliver the code to Magnus would only take up more time and even then the bomb would have been activated--

Magnus was fiddling with the buttons, attempting to stall the timer. 2:01 minutes and Hot Rod finally snapped, running back at him. "If you're going to stay here and sacrifice yourself, then you're not doing it alone," he insisted. "Let's take the ship together, away from here!"

"Hot Rod, you will leave now--!"

When the timer hit 1 minute, Hot Rod flew forward, grabbed Magnus by the shoulders and planted a hard kiss on his lips. Magnus felt himself tense and stiffen, unable to make any sort of reaction to this. Half a second later, Hot Rod pulled back and grabbed onto the wing of the ship without a second thought. "Let's get going, sir!" he exclaimed, tugging on a half-smile.

Magnus stared at him. He shook his head. "You can't _stay_ here!" he barked, but grabbed the other wing either way.

One minute, fifty seconds.

"I told you, you're stuck with me until the end!" Hot Rod laughed and began to drag the ship away.

"Slag," Magnus cursed bitterly.

"904590!"

At thirty-nine seconds, Hot Rod and Magnus shot their attention upwards as Skylynx flew above them. "Stop gawking! The deactivation code is 904590!" he snorted, flapping his large wings.

Twenty-four seconds and Magnus finally dove at the control panel, quickly pounding in the coding. The timer hit the 0:19 second mark before it stalled and froze in place. "Now hurry," Skylynx added, "type in 089021 to self-destruct the bomb!"

Magnus followed the orders and a second later, the timer's number scrambled, the bomb shutting down and sparking as its programing ripped itself apart. Immediately, the glow around the ship faded. The three Autobots sighed, sitting and staggering back with relief. "I say, perhaps it should have been me who deactivated it," Skylynx snorted, "I would have been _much_ faster."

"It's destroyed, that's all that matters," Magnus said, standing. He looked up at Skylynx. "I take it Perceptor sent you?"

"Of course! Naturally, who else can you rely on?" Skylynx grunted, turning up his nose. "As soon as your transmission feed disconnected, he gave me the codes and sent me to save your little diodes." The giant 'bot placed a wing to his chest. "I even delivered back-up for Bumblebee and Bluestreak to handle those insufferable Seekers. I suppose now after my intervention, they've run off back to their little base, shaking in their pedes."

Hot Rod smiled. "So they're all right then?"

"I only brought the best, so of course, they're fine," Skylynx answered. He walked up to the ship, his tail swishing. "Perceptor had asked me to kindly bring him back the cargo. Not like there's anyone else he can depend on for such important work."

"There's Skyfire--"

"Tut tut," Skylynx sniffed loudly at Hot Rod. He spread open his shuttle doors. "Now, if you two younglings will stop standing around like buffoons and load the ship onto me, I'd like to return back to Metroplex and finish my beauty recharge."

Magnus and Hot Rod couldn't help but laugh a little, completely oblivious to Dirge awakening and making a run for it. "All right," Magnus said a second later, gesturing to Hot Rod, "you take one wing and I'll take the other."

Hot Rod picked up the wing he had previously been holding. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

It turned out that Perceptor was right. Quest had shipped the meta-energon to Metroplex nearly five orns ago, without Perceptor knowing. Contact with Quest explained his reason: Decepticon troops had been sniffing around their base and they had no choice but to send it out before they could get a hold of it. The ship had crashed to Earth, Perceptor assumed, three orns ago, burying itself into the Earth. It was left unnoticed that day due to Metroplex and its passengers busy fighting Trypticon and the Decepticons outside the state during an energon raid. Due to its low energy signal, it was left unnoticed.

Swindle, however, must have been tracing the ship. After informing Megatron of his finding, they had agreed upon a deal to meet privately at a location by the shuttle. The energon had not been there to be sold for Decepticon consumption, but rather to try and activate the ship to remove either its contents or, if sentient, discover its purpose. Swindle, however, did not know there was a bomb attached.

Returning to base, Magnus and Hot Rod loaded the cubes of meta-energon into a highly secured underground storage room inside Metroplex. Of course, it would only be used to help fuel the fortress Transformer, who naturally consumed much more energon than his companions.

After double checking the locks on the door, Perceptor stepped out into the hall with Ultra Magnus, Hot Rod and Skylynx. "It's safe," he said simply. "I'll have Red Alert keep a close optic on this room until the meta-energon runs out."

"Good idea," Magnus agreed.

Skylynx flapped his wings. "This is much too drawl for me. It is nearly 4 AM and I have two more cycles before I am on duty again. So, if you're quite sure you're capable of keeping your heads on without my help, I would like to return to my quarters."

"You're dismissed," Magnus assured, waving him off. Skylynx just made a little 'humph' and flew off back to his roost.

"Guy's attitude is astounding," Hot Rod smirked, folding his arms over his chest.

"Before I venture off to recharge myself," Perceptor piped in, "have either of you sustained any damage you need mending?"

The two shook their heads. "We're fine," Magnus reassured. "Bluestreak's in the med bay with First Aide to repair his arm, but Bumblebee, Ironhide and Cliffjumper are in fine shape, just a little battle worn and tired."

Perceptor chuckled. "I can imagine the same can be said for the both of you," he said, astounded. "You nearly sacrificed yourselves attempting to dismantle the bomb!"

Magnus considered what the scientist had said, remembering the timer as it ticked away precious time. How he knew that with transmission lost, attempting to contact Perceptor at that point in time would have been futile. Hot Rod perhaps knew this and that's perhaps why he stayed. Ultra Magnus remembered how defiant he was, how he refused to leave and how he had--

Magnus cleared his vocals. "We're just happy it didn't come to that."

"Indeed!" Perceptor agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a couple things to tie up before I retire for a few cycles."

"Rest well, Perceptor," Magnus replied, allowing Perceptor to leave with a salute.

The two mechs watched him depart before Hot Rod stretched out his arms and legs. "I think that energon's comin' back up," the orange soldier grumbled, "I guess I ought to go--"

Magnus took his arm, causing Hot Rod to jump a little. His optics quickly met the white and blue's. They were cold, contemplating, dark. Hot Rod instantly felt a lecture coming on. "Is there something you need, sir?" he asked in a tiny voice.

The older mech pulled him closer, until they were face to face. Hot Rod felt more tension mount on his shoulders.

"We need to talk."

* * *

T/B/C


	3. Chapter 3

The final chapter, yaaaay. Thanks for the reads and reviews, you gaiz!

**WARNING**: GAAAAAAY. Bonding, yar.

* * *

**One Early Morning**

By B

Chapter 3

* * *

Dawn would arrive within the next hour. By now, half of those recharging were waking, and those who had been left with night duty were slipping into well deserved rest. Activity was slowly increasing the more the light glowed drearily over Metroplex's towers.

After a short and brisk walk back to Magnus's private quarters, Hot Rod found himself sitting in a chair offered by his commander. Across the room there was a long stretch of glass, a window large enough to display the entire city of the giant Transformer. It was a fascinating view, "breathtaking" as the humans would put it. He had only been in Autobot City for a few months now, but still he felt there was a lot more to Metroplex that he had yet to discover.

Hot Rod winced when he felt a knot tightening in his helm. He gave it a rub, the pain disappearing a few seconds later.

"It appears your hang-over might be on its way early now that all the excitement's died down."

Hot Rod glanced back at Magnus as the larger mech walked up to his side, extending to him a cube of violet blue energon. It made Hot Rod apprehensive, face twisting unsurely. Magnus couldn't help but chortle at his reaction. "Relax," he assured, "it'll help your processors to work out the energon. A recipe from an old comrade of mine."

Hot Rod nodded and took the cube. "You got it from an old friend, huh?" he asked. A little grin played at his lip components. "Why'd he give it to you? Don't tell me you did some heavy duty energizing back in your vorns..." He then took a sip, nearly spitting it out as soon as the taste hit his mouth. "Ugh, this is inasty/i--!"

"The humans tend to say," Magnus said with a raised finger, "'the more bland and nasty it tastes, the healthier it is.'" Hot Rod just scowled and forced down another swallow. He wasn't sure if this stuff was worth him helping to work off his sore buzz. "And regarding your previous question," the blue and white mech added, "no, but he told me one can never be too careful, nor have enough knowledge." He smirked a little. "Obviously he was right, as it came in handy now."

Hot Rod bit back his words, wanting to tell Magnus how much this "salt water pepper stew" wasn't helping him with anything but working up another headache. Magnus was his commander, the big boss next to Prime as well as his friend. To insult the fixture Magnus had gone out of his way to make would be extremely rude. He'd just have to swallow his pride and this mess as well. "I see," he said instead, taking another reluctant drink, "that's too bad."

"I couldn't honestly tell you how life was back when I was your age," Magnus sighed, scratching innocently at his helm. He then cleared his throat. "I'm making myself out to be so old..."

The orange mech shook his head. "Nah, you've still got lots of mileage on you," he teased.

Magnus grinned again, before he remembered the reason he had brought Hot Rod here. And it wasn't so he could fix him some hang-over helper. Straightening and putting back on his stern face, Hot Rod hadn't noticed the sudden ship of business in the atmosphere, just focusing on keeping this strange drink down. "Hot Rod, I brought you here to discuss your actions on the battlefield earlier," the older Autobot said a second later.

Hot Rod nearly choked on his swallow in surprise. It passed and he gulped it down loudly, shame slowly spreading along his face plates. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on his cube. "Ah, yes..." he murmured.

"I had informed you yesterday evening during our talk on your unauthorized Decepticon raid that should you disobey orders from your superiors one more time, you would indeed face punishment, no matter how heroic the deed would be," Magnus reminded, voice serious.

Hot Rod just nodded numbly and felt like he was right back in that same meeting.

"I had ordered you to retreat as I attempted to disable the bomb, to go and help your comrades as well as contact Perceptor," Magnus continued. Hot Rod just kept his head ducked low. "Not only did you disagree and refuse, but you even spoke out of key, defying as well as undermining my authority as your commander."

Hot Rod rubbed his digits along the cube's transparent surface. "If I might speak freely?" he asked in a small voice.

"Speak," Magnus replied.

Hot Rod sat his cube aside, hands now on his knees. "I mean no disrespect, as you know I respect both you and your authority, but..." he paused. His optics switched up to his staring, silent elder. "You and I both knew that if I had left the vicinity to contact Perceptor, I would not have been able to retrieve and return with the deactivation code in time." He shook his head a little. "I mean, again, I'm not trying to suggest you were thinking differently but--"

"I had known," Magnus interrupted, agreeing. Hot Rod shot his optics back up at him, both wide. "I knew all of this. By the time you were able to establish a connection with Perceptor outside the interfering radioactivity, returning with the information, if it was even available or correct, would have been too late," he explained. Hot Rod went to open his mouth to speak, but Magnus rose his hand, silencing him, allowing him to continue. "iHowever/i, I could not risk your life and there was no need for two of us to die, if it came to that."

"But there would have been no sense for you to die, either!" Hot Rod exclaimed, refusing to bite his tongue. Magnus just listened. "You could have retreated!" the younger mech stated angrily, holding out his arms. "The explosion wouldn't reach Metroplex! The neighboring areas were devoid of any life! Nothing would be lost except--"

"--Except many other forms of life," Magnus finished. Hot Rod stared at him, dumbfounded. "Humans rely on this planet's vegetation and plant life to survive. The explosion would have taken out at least half an acre of forest. I had a chance, at least, to try and stop it, instead of just running."

Hot Rod thought over his reply before sighing. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered, rubbing the back of his helm and looking aside, shame overcoming him again. "I forgot about this planet's delicate balance..." He couldn't help but shrug and chuckle a little, though it came out bitter. "I'm still adjusting to this place. On Cybertron, it's so different, and already so ravaged, something like that ship blowing up wouldn't matter much. Just form another dent, that's all."

Magnus's firm flat line of a frown twisted into a sad one. That was right; Hot Rod was so much younger than him. At one point in time, Magnus had known what Cybertron was like in all her glory, a planet ravishing with life and peace. Now all that was left was a desolate wasteland of death and bitter memories. Magnus had once overheard a few young soldiers chatting amongst themselves when believing they were in complete privacy, wondering angrily why they had to fight for a planet that was essentially dead. Though Ultra Magnus would never believe Cybertron was a lost cause, he could see how it might be to the younger crew, those who had not seen her at her glorious times.

And he wondered if Hot Rod had ever thought like this before. He never said anything, never complained much about being a soldier, about the war. He hated it, wanted it to end like every other Autobot, but he never really looked at it as if it wasn't worth the effort. Perhaps it was his age. Hot Rod didn't carry history, duties like Magnus did, so maybe he had not seen the total bleakness as his elders did. Even then, if he did see just how dark the future was, like Ultra Magnus, like Optimus Prime, like any real Autobot at spark, it didn't matter how dark it was; somewhere there was a sliver of light, and that in itself was a miracle worth protecting.

But now that he was here, saying all this, confessing his feelings... Magnus could see why Kup had recommended the young Autobot to join under his personal set of troops. Despite his sometimes outbursts of carelessness and thoughtlessness, Hot Rod was a good kid, a worthy soldier and becoming too exposed to Cybertron's ruins. Here on Earth, hopefully Hot Rod, hopefully all his young companions, would find a rejuvenated sense of hope for the future, that little push to make them realize Cybertron could be repaired and that she was not the only one under threat, but many more, and like Earth, they were still young and ripe and naive, craving protection.

"You're still new to this planet, to its environment and life forms," Magnus said after rousing himself from his depressing thoughts. Hot Rod nodded a little. "You'll learn to appreciate it soon enough."

"From what I've seen, from the people I've met, I really like it so far," Hot Rod chuckled lightheartedly.

Magnus's smile returned. "It only gets better."

Hot Rod nodded again and his expression changed, more stern. "But even then..." he began, pausing. He looked to his hand, watching it clench into a fist. "... I guess maybe I'm just too young to get it, but just the way you were so... comfortable, I guess, to throw away your life... It just felt... wrong, or something. I mean, I've seen some guys do some outrageous stuff," he said, face perplexed, "but never... never like that. Not to the point where it seems like you're... iall right/i with just deactivating like that."

"In this day and age, it's a glory to die fighting for what we believe in, and protecting others in the process," Magnus explained calmly.

"Oh, I get that, and if I had to face the choice... Well..." Hot Rod just scowled. He looked Magnus directly in his optics, his soft blue deep and thoughtful. "But if given the chance to fight, no matter how small it seems, no matter if it's a lost cause, if it meant at least knowing you could make it out alive..." His hard expression softened a little, worried for an answer he might not like. "Wouldn't you take that risk instead?"

Magnus thought over his answer and his grin relaxed sadly. "Kup was right," he said, "you may act brash, but you can be wise beyond your vorns." Hot Rod just stared at him, awed, before bowing back with embarrassment. "And you're right, I would take that chance," the blue and white mech agreed. He bridged his hands together. "I guess perhaps I had been feeling more negative of the outcome during the situation that I felt even if I managed to disable it in the slightest, it would have been for naught."

"Yeah..." Hot Rod mumbled. He dropped his face into his hand, his smile still visible. "Well, no, I understand what you mean--I get why you did what you thought was right. I see it, I really do, but..." His dental plates grit as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he just gave something akin to a resigned exhale, shoulders sagging. "... Well, I just--I just didn't like the idea of you... dying..."

Magnus felt his spark ache a little. Hot Rod looked so... miserable at the prospect of his commander dying. Magnus knew many people who be sorry, sad to see him die. But for some reason, it felt as if should it ever come to that, Hot Rod would be completely devastated. The larger mech didn't want to believe someone would lose any will to fight, to hope, to move on because of his demise, and yet somehow he saw it in the way Hot Rod hung there, optics dim from such an image it cast... And at the same time, he knew what the feeling was like. Perhaps not to such the greatest extent of Hot Rod's, but it was strong, he knew that.

"When you wanted to take my place, then you can imagine how I felt," Magnus said. Hot Rod looked up at him sheepishly. "You considered your own life unimportant compared to mine."

"But you're--"

"It does not matter iwho/i I am, or even iwhat/i I am to everyone else," Magnus snapped into his protest, causing Hot Rod to flinch. "The very idea of Cybertron continuing to birth new life even if the life she's been breeding since the dawn of her infantile years have been the main reason behind her decaying, it's amazing, it's beautiful." He then rose a hand, pushing a finger to Hot Rod's chest plate, over his Autobot insignia. Hot Rod felt his knees buckle. "She gave you life, that planet dying slowly, and thus, it should be taken seriously. Your life, and the life of your fellow Autobots, are all important." His hand drew back, both of them curling behind his back.

"And irregardless of your rank, you are still a living, processing, growing creature. You risk it by putting yourself in battle everyday, there's no need for you to believe throwing it away because you believe someone is more 'worthy,'" Magnus stated. "I was willing to die because it would have saved many more, even if they weren't of our own kin. Not because I felt I was any less of an Autobot who deserved it."

Hot Rod considered his words, and Magnus could tell he was taking them to spark, processing the meaning and depth behind them. Finally, the younger Autobot straightened and was able to meet optics with his superior again. "Yeah," he said, determination returning to his voice, "you're absolutely right. And I'm sorry I made you upset by it."

Magnus took a step forward, placing his hand on Hot Rod's shoulder. The smaller 'bot couldn't help but warm up a little. "I knew you were willing to take the fall not just because you felt your status was insignificant compared to mine," the older mech said reassuringly, "but because I knew you'd be protecting and saving others."

Hot Rod's grin was bashful. He wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"But."

Suddenly, there was that shift in mood again. Magnus's hand on Hot Rod's felt heavier. Magnus's face was drawn out with confusion, even a little sadness. "What I really wanted to discuss with you..." he said, quietly.

Hot Rod suddenly knew where this was going, considering he had done something else that was unpredictable and shocking in those final moments. His jaw opened, shut and opened again before he shifting aside, his face glowing red hot. "I, uh, well..." he bit into his bottom lip component. With a big inhaling whirr, he rose his tone, tittering, "Well, I can explain, see--"

"You kissed me," Magnus said, causing Hot Rod to want to curl up into a ball again. "That's what it's called, right? Kissing?" the older Autobot inquired honestly. Hot Rod was too embarrassed to answer. "Humans have a habit of doing it when expressing affectionate emotions. Carly and Spike, I've seen them exchange kisses. I've come to learn through my few observations that kisses vary in definition as well as location. On the cheek or forehead, a sign of platonic affection. A kiss on some sort of wound or sore spot is sometimes said to relieve pain, for whatever reason. But..." Slowly, Magnus pointed to his lips. "Usually whenever there is a kissing exchange mouth to mouth, it's a sign of a more... deeper, romantic form of affection, perhaps even love."

Hot Rod didn't want to add onto the list "sexual" as well. "Humm..." he just groaned, really not sure what to say or do. Right now the sheer embarrassment he was feeling was stronger than the nagging migraine in the back of his helm. "It's... Well, it's more complicated than that. I-I've noticed, being around humans a bit more..." he said with a fluttering laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Then would you mind explaining me why you kissed me?" Magnus asked, making Hot Rod feel on the verge of jumping out the window. "Kisses can be used as farewells, but considering your behavior at the time... And are their other reasons behind kissing on the lips besides being attracted to the kisser?"

Hot Rod hiccupped. "It-it's difficult to explain!" he insisted, a squeak in his voice. "It was--it was the heat of the moment and at that time I just--I just--"

The young soldier never got to finish. Magnus had put his hand back to his shoulder, leaning forward to steal a kiss from the babbling mech's mouth. Hot Rod's words slurred to a complete stand still, his optics flashing with shock as he could only stare at Magnus's face right against his, their lips pressed. Magnus did little more, but remembering what he had seen humans and Hot Rod do, he did offline his optics. He didn't know how to kiss, no surprise, and really Hot Rod didn't know much either, but he felt himself ease into the touch, using experience to push his lips closer, nudge their mouths together, as if pawing curiously.

Magnus pulled back a second later, optics returning to life. "A moment like that?" he inquired. Hot Rod just stared, his optics still dim. "Tell me," the older Autobot insisted, though his tone suggested nothing demanding, his hand squeezing Hot Rod's shoulder to deepen the connection, "what were you feeling when you kissed me?"

Hot Rod looked at him meekly. "Well..." he snickered a little. With a playful tone, he asked, "What were you feeling when iyou/i kissed ime/i?"

A silent exchange of understanding, acknowledgement passed between the two. Not another word was spoken as Magnus swooped back down towards Hot Rod, the other moving in to meet him halfway. When their lips met, it all suddenly felt natural, this "kissing," and their optics offlined and Hot Rod let his glossa gently caress Magnus's lips. Magnus took from his lead and examples, his own glossa meeting to brush against Hot Rod's.

When they met, Hot Rod and Ultra Magnus drew back, surprised and embarrassed and both knowing things had gotten much deeper than intended. It was as if they had sealed some sort of deal. And when this realization finally overcame them, they found themselves grasping at the other for more, lips connected instantly.

Hot Rod pressed his weight against Magnus, tilting his head back, his hands lingering along his superior's forearms, digits occasionally pressing into the blue metal, retracting seconds later to flutter in place. Magnus cupped his hands to his soldier's cheeks, holding his head delicately as they felt their glossa brave forward, further exploring the insides of their mouths, tasting places they never imagined they'd feel before. When it felt like they had mapped their territories, their glossa found themselves lashing, pressing, thrusting against the others.

Things escalated then. Perhaps it had turned to passion, for seconds later the two toppled out on the floor, barely missing falling on Magnus's berth. The location didn't seem to be important, just each other. Hot Rod stretched himself out along Magnus's long chassis, his feet barely passing over his knees. Their mouths and glossa continued to push, craving the electricity their touches generated. Hot Rod let his fingers dig back into Magnus's arms, the others trailing from his face, over his shoulders, brushing against his spoiler--

Hot Rod grunted, sitting up on Magnus's lap. Magnus blinked. "Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.

Hot Rod, flushed, just slowly shook his head. "My--my spoiler... It's..." he murmured, looking aside, trying to hide the glow on his cheeks. "... Sensitive..."

"Does it hurt when I touch it?"

"No, no!" Hot Rod quickly corrected. He scratched sheepishly at his cheek. "It feels... good..." he whispered.

Magnus thought for a moment, before his hand stretched out to touch the spoiler again. Hot Rod flinched an inch away. The blue and white mech's optics, asking for permission and slowly Hot Rod shifted closer to his hovering hand. With his consent, Magnus touched the tip of one tip, letting his fingers run down along the frame. Hot Rod shuddered and resisted an urge to moan, instead scrunching up his shoulders and biting into his bottom lip component. Magnus continued to stroke up and down along its frame, getting Hot Rod used to the touches to the point where he started to relax a little.

It was growing routine, at least enough so where Hot Rod was comfortable, but when Magnus suddenly let his digit wander across the spoiler, it made the younger mech lose control, moaning loudly. Magnus liked the reaction, stroking along the base of the yellow wings, letting his thumb smoothen the sharp upturned right tip. Hot Rod shivered, his hands pawing, almost kneading against Magnus's chest, much like a cat.

When Magnus's hand reached the curve running along his back, Hot Rod couldn't help but titter, sitting forward. "You really seem to be transfixed with my spoiler," he chuckled, his optics light.

"They remind me of wings, in a way," Magnus explained, keeping his hands resting on Hot Rod's hips. He felt a little discomfort swell in his chest, adding a moment later, "I must sound like an old romantic to you..."

Hot Rod laughed a little. "I like that," he assured, dipping down to press a small kiss to Magnus's lips. Magnus was expecting him to pout and beat his chest, as if to proclaim his manliness, as apes tended to do. But Hot Rod seemed just as flowery, caressing his forehead, the tip of his nose.

It reminded the older mech of a cat Carly had been sitting for a friend a weekend. They had been arranging appointments for an intergalactic council meeting between Earth, Cybertron and another, distant planet wishing to aide them in their war. That's when the cat, a fat calico perhaps ten years old, came comfortably, without fear to his feet, wrapped around them before leaping up on nearby furniture, higher and higher until he was able to jump square into Magnus's lap, curling up and pawing at one long foreleg before stretching out, licking his paws, purring loudly. Magnus had been so astounded by this he just stared at the animal for a whole minute before Carly snapped him back to reality and the drawing board.

And here Hot Rod was, just cuddling comfortably against his massive chassis, planting a kiss between his optics. It all seemed innocent enough and Magnus found himself sinking deeper into the steel ground, relaxing. It all took a wild turn when Hot Rod crawled up further, cupped one of his antennae before proceeding to run his glossa up its length, all the way to the tip and back down. Magnus made a low groan, shifting as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort tingled throughout his body.

Hot Rod drew back his mouth and grinned mischievously (also cat-like) at the Autobot beneath him. "Ah, found your spot," he chortled.

Perhaps because Magnus had not been the one in the position of receiving did the blue and white mech suddenly sit up, Hot Rod sliding into his lap. "We can't do this," he said, his tone confused, disappointed, maybe even a little sad. He placed his hands to Hot Rod's shoulders, gently pushing him back. "I'm sorry, but it wouldn't be right. I'm your superior, and you my soldier, and this is strictly unprofess--"

"Remember what you said about status not meaning everything?" Hot Rod interrupted, taking Magnus's hands from off his shoulders. He leaned forward, taking back up the space he had been removed from. "Well, can't it be applied in this situation?" he asked, almost pouting. "I mean, this--ithis/i is important, too..." He fidgeted uncomfortably in the larger mech's lap, obviously anxiety welling inside his giddy spark. "... Important enough to warrant an excuse from positions, to ignore the fact that we probably shouldn't be doing this."

Magnus shook his head and dammit, the way Hot Rod wriggled on him... He swallowed and composed himself. "It's not just a matter of our relationship as commander and subordinate, as it is our friendship as well." He frowned sadly. "I'm afraid if we went through with this, then it could do more damage than it's worth..."

"If anything, it'll just... relieve tensions," Hot Rod murmured, optics downcast.

Magnus cocked an optic ridge. "'Tensions'?"

Hot Rod quickly changed the subject, pushing a finger to Magnus's massive chest. "But you just admitted you wanted it, too," he stated. Before Magnus could speak, he shook his head and rose his hands. "Look, I'm spontaneous, as you well know, and I often say I'll control myself better next time only for that promise to blow up in my face somewhere down the line. So I can't ask you to trust me on this, but just--just believe me..." His hands squeezed into fists, lowering a bit. "... When I say that to me this isn't just some, random, spontaneous idea that popped up in my processors, just something I'll forget in the future..." His azure blue optics met with Magnus's own studying pair. "... Believe me. It's the truth."

"You..." Magnus didn't know what else to say.

Hot Rod's systems whirred in an exhale. He slid himself up farther along the older mech's leg, flinching as he did so, until they were practically chest to chest. "I mean, we've gotten this far, I don't see how I can hide the fact I've liked you for a long time anymore," he explained, much to Magnus's awe, "and nor should we just... stop." He huffed a little, his spoiler giving a small shudder. "We both got each other's engines revving, so why stop so abruptly when we know that we both want it..."

Again, Hot Rod made no room for Magnus to reply. "I mean, well, maybe it's just me then," he grumbled, turning his head away and giving his neck an embarrassed rub. "I guess maybe you're just being nice by not pushing me away comp--"

"'Nice'?"

Hot Rod winced when Magnus took his wrist from his head, squeezing it; not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make Hot Rod turn his head and give him a shocked look bordering on fright. Magnus certainly had the bitter expression that would warrant such a response. "You believe that I'm essentially pitying your feelings, do you? Do you believe I'm just doing this to entertain you?" he demanded and though the volume of his vocals rose, they did not get anywhere near rage sounding as he felt.

"I... didn't mean it like that," Hot Rod murmured. "I must have worded it--"

"Like you accidentally told me you were unimportant and replaceable when handling that bomb?" Magnus cut in and Hot Rod grimaced again. He hoped they weren't going back to square one. The feeling of ecstasy and pleasure he had derived from their kisses, their touches, it was starting to fade, making room for that extra energon sloshing in his circuitry.

But Magnus was not about to thrust themselves back into an old lecture. Instead, he slowly let Hot Rod's hand go and sat back. "If you honestly believe that I embraced you so as not to hurt your feelings," he said, his voice steady, "then perhaps you don't know me as well as you may believe."

Hot Rod felt a stab of pain in his spark. He could detect the hurt in Magnus's voice and it hit him tenfold. "I'm sorry," he heaved a second later, dropping his head on his commander's chest. Magnus stayed put, didn't move an inch, his head remaining forward. Hot Rod suddenly felt completely alone. "I really didn't want you to take it that way," the young mech apologized, voice heavy. "I just... just..." Hot Rod grit his dental plates and with an aggravated growl, sat back and clamped his hands on the top of his head.

"I guess I was just trying to find a way to make myself feel less disappointed about you rejecting me! You know?" Hot Rod grumbled, agitated with himself. "Just some way to persuade my processors that it's just me feeling all this and so really, I shouldn't be upset and should just get over it, move on. Primus knows that you're right; we've got other relationships to worry about, battles to fight, lives to save, other critical things our systems should be focused on, not--not--" He tossed up a hand with a bitter huff. "Not ibonding/i!"

The words had tripped from his mouth in the heat of the moment and when Hot Rod realized just what he had said, his entire body went limp with sudden terror, his faceplates blazing hot. Magnus stared at him, his serious expression replaced with awe. Hot Rod obviously was interested in him, but to want to ibond/i--

"Are you serious?" Magnus felt speechless.

Hot Rod tore at his head. "Aaah! Just--just forget everything!" he exclaimed with a hiss, needing to get the Hell out of the room before his temperature core set him on fire. But just as he gathered to his feet, Magnus had a hold of his wrist again, this time pulling him back instead of away. Hot Rod made a small 'oomph' as he fell back against the blue and white mech's chest, head resting over his thrumming spark. His optics were wide, bugging from their sockets.

Magnus rested his forehead to the top of Hot Rod's helm. "Calm down," he said soothingly. His voice... it nearly made the younger mech melt. Letting him go, Hot Rod sat back on Magnus's knees, his big optics meeting his commander's. "You really do feel that deeply for me, don't you?" he smirked lopsidedly, touching his hands delicately to the sides of Hot Rod's head.

Hot Rod slumped, everything seeming to break free from their dam. He managed to laugh nervously. "Yeah," he chuckled, his own smile weak and crooked, "sorry about that, sir."

Ultra Magnus studied his soldier, sized him up and saw Hot Rod wasn't as young as he suspected. He really had to give the kid more credit for being so determined. Magnus just laughed lightly, hand to the side of his face as all he could do was shake his head at this mess. How did this night turn so crazy? He never expected anything to amount between them--nothing to this extent. Nor did he believe someone like Hot Rod in a million vorns actually be romantically attracted to someone, well, someone "his age," humans put it.

Arguing got them nowhere, just had them run in circles. They both wanted this, maybe even needed it, but so many rules and regulations would suggest being against such a relationship. Bad things could come of this and if things turned sour, how would that effect their relationship as comrades, as friends? It was risky, but Hot Rod was willing to take it. And Magnus, so consumed with affection and flattery of his love (was that it?) being requited, he just didn't feel like fighting anymore. Maybe he couldn't, if he still wished to try.

"You know what this could lead to if others knew," Magnus said a moment later and Hot Rod seemed to glow when he realized he had won this fight. "Not all good things."

"iIf/i being the keyword," Hot Rod smirked. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms lightly around Magnus's neck. Their faces were close now, lips even closer. "Besides, we're off duty right now. We're not superior and soldier."

Magnus dropped his hands on Hot Rod's hips. "Well, that is correct," he agreed, corners of his smile peeling back.

Hot Rod gave a small "heh" before closing in the remaining space between them, his lips pressed against Magnus's with an almost ferocious need. Magnus wondered just how long Hot Rod had been waiting for this. Nonetheless, he let his hands smooth up and down the younger mech's sides, returning the kiss with a more controlled enthusiasm, yet giving Hot Rod the heat he so desired. Hot Rod closed his arms tighter around Magnus, tilting his head to the side to dip his glossa in deeper, Magnus cradling the back of his helm in his large hand.

That sense of doubt and fear faded as the seconds passed, the deeper the kisses got. Hot Rod withdrew first, surprisingly, a thin trail of coolant trailing from the corner of his mouth. He gave Magnus's top lip component a nip before releasing it. Magnus was mildly surprised by what he had done, asking quickly, "Biting? You bite when you kiss as well?"

"Humans do it," Hot Rod answered, simply shrugging. "They usually use it when the feelings or kisses are really deep, or something," he hummed, trying to explain the foreign expression to his leader. Magnus didn't really understand, but he did nudge forward, very lightly biting into Hot Rod's bottom lip, causing the little mech in his lap to groan.

Hot Rod stared at him with optics heavy with lust and happiness, a glow lingering on his cheeks. "How about that?" Magnus inquired, half-honestly asking for approval. "Did I do it correctly?"

"Yeah, you did great," Hot Rod couldn't help but laugh at how confused his superior was. Yet, it pleased him that he was the one who was giving Magnus all his firsts. Well, perhaps not them all, but... Hopefully these exchanges, these lessons would never be between anyone else but themselves. "You did really good," he said again, lashing his glossa along the corner of Magnus's mouth.

Magnus felt relieved; he was hoping he hadn't done anything embarrassing. He moved forward and caught Hot Rod's glossa in his mouth, both continuing to knead into each others mouths. Magnus could taste the energon along the insides of Hot Rod's mouth, but by now it was faint. It felt like so much time had passed when they separated again, Hot Rod flustered with the friction it had generated. Magnus kindly swept his thumb across Hot Rod's dark lips, wiping away the coolant. Hot Rod pushed his mouth to the thumb, optics dimming.

"I hope I've won your approval so far," Magnus said quietly.

Hot Rod laughed again, loudly this time. "Oh, you've earned it more than enough," he sniggered, brushing nose to nose with his partner. Without a word, he tipped down Magnus's head, who complied with his movements. There, Hot Rod took an antenna in his hand, continuing to caress it with his glossa as he did before. And just like then, Magnus tensed and relaxed, chills running full course along his backbone infrastructure.

Upon reaching the top of the antenna, Hot Rod took it in his mouth, gently giving it a bite. Magnus clenched his dental plates, twitching as that chill increased. Both easing and disappointing him, Hot Rod retracted, the tip of his glossa the last to leave. However, he was not quite done, instead turning his head and letting his dental plates dip on the top of Magnus's other antenna.

Magnus reacted with a soft moan in his throat, his hands leaving Hot Rod's hips to raise and dig his digits into the back of his spoiler. Hot Rod curled his back into the touch, grunting as the pressure on his "wings" made his limbs suddenly feel weak and numb, his mouth sliding along the antenna, trailing with it soft, pleased mewls.

The orange mech eased into Magnus's touches, his torso pressing lightly against Magnus's face. The blue and white mech caressed the yellow phoenix and its Autobot insignia, lips brushing to touch the edges of the steel bird's wings. Hot Rod was shivering in his hands, trying to keep himself steady by relaxing against his shoulders, though his hands shook with the rest of him. Magnus could hear his equilibrium chip whirring actively, trying to keep its owner balanced.

There was a string of moans between the two, each massaging their hands into the others, bodies grinding. It had been so wonderful, neither could find their voice. Hot Rod had needed it for what was next, but decided just to accept the silence that had suffocated them, save the soft cries they whispered. All of this, it was so wonderful, but it was not enough to calm the young mech's needs.

Unable to speak, he rather used his actions to say what he wanted. Hot Rod rolled off Magnus's lap, sprawling out on the floor, taking the big mech's hand in his to yank him over. Magnus obediently fell to his knees next to Hot Rod's thighs, hovering over him, his shadow covering his soldier in a thin blanket of darkness. He stared at Hot Rod, processors slowly trying to make sense of what he now wanted.

It was quite obvious, however. It had been so long for Magnus, it was no surprise he forgot the signs. It wasn't until after fidgeting under Magnus did Hot Rod finally press both hands to his superior's chest, each one on side just above his spark chamber. Another whirl of thought processing passed before Magnus finally put the puzzle together.

"You..." Magnus paused. Hot Rod was kneading, wanton and hungry at his chest, dying for it to open to him. "This is... It's..." The blue and white mech was tongue tied. Hot Rod wanted to bond, wanted to combine sparks with him--the ultimate act of love and trust between Transformers, Autobot and Decepticon alike. He knew that foreplay was just that, and soon Hot Rod would want to cut chase from the outercourse. Yet still, it felt like such a shock, seeing where they had gotten. Magnus had completely forgotten just how far.

"Yeah," Hot Rod murmured a moment later, as if knowing what Magnus had wanted to ask. To prove it, his hands drew back and Magnus watched the golden phoenix plating on his chest click unlock then slowly part. Magnus could feel heat generating in thick waves from his chamber alone, and he was awed with beauty when the final layers of metallic skin parted to reveal his pulsating, hot red and soft yellow spark beneath. It released a red, ghostly glimmer that lit up the dark room, a ring of yellow lining at the edges where the light faded.

Magnus had seen many sparks in his life, and alas, most of them had been from the chassis of dying soldiers. But this one--Hot Rod's spark was so intensely bright, Magnus was reminded of a newborn star. Even the pale shades of sun and moonlight mingled together, creating something so beautiful for a second he wondered if it was some sort of optic illusion.

But it was real, all too real, and it rested soundly, beating wantonly in Hot Rod's chest, heaving with busied systems and programs. Hot Rod looked at him, his optics almost desperate. The frown on his face suggested fear; he sensed Magnus's hesitation and prayed to Primus it didn't end here. It couldn't--not when his spark was crying for the other's touch this badly.

Magnus wanted to tell him just how beautiful it was, just how illuminating and powerful its glow, but yet, he couldn't get words to move past his throat. Hot Rod didn't seem to mind and he couldn't help but smile and snicker, his optics grinning as well; it was just so obvious what Magnus was thinking. It made Hot Rod's flushed cheek plates burn harder in something like a virginal blush. "I feel kinda exposed, heh," the young mech tittered.

Magnus snapped back to reality. "I--I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable--"

"I'm not," Hot Rod assured. His quivering fingers reached back up to lightly touch Magnus's chest. "Just... don't leave me hangin' out here all by my lonesome." That playful grin was gone, softening into something of a plea. "Please..." he said, voice straining.

There was no denying him now. His spark open to him, his voice, his optics, his face; it would be cruel and terrible to turn away now. Magnus had been so engulfed with the beauty of the spark, he begin to feel it was too stupendous a thing to touch. As if it were fragile; he certainly didn't want to damage it. But even if that were so, despite its relentless glimmer, Magnus could not stop this. Things had gone far, farther and now, they were there.

"All right," Magnus whispered a second later, finally shaking off his daze. If he was going to bond with Hot Rod, he had to give him all he got. He just hoped the younger mech didn't mind the fact that he hadn't bonded in years. Even then, it was only with one partner, a femme long gone to the war.

That was vorns ago, and his memory banks had turned her into something akin to a faded sepia photograph in his processors. He felt no guilt about what he was going to do with Hot Rod; it had been so long, the pain and anger and bitterness of losing her had washed itself from his systems. He knew she wouldn't want him to dwell on the past and as long as he had her in his memories and cherished what they did have, there was no need to feel anything bad about falling in love all over again.

Slowly, the plating on Magnus's chest opened, bit by bit the plating over his chamber spreading as well. His spark was nothing as glorious as Hot Rod's, but it had such a reassuring, serene light to it that Hot Rod instantly felt comforted. It was soft, gentle and carrying the weight of many things, knowledge, memories, emotions, fears and doubts. It flickered greetings at the burning spark below and the way it seemed to glow beat by beat made Hot Rod feel his body become heavy and warm.

"No seconds thoughts?" Magnus inquired, quietly. "If you want to stop here, we can. Do not feel guilty if you feel this is going too fast."

Hot Rod sniggered. "I don't know the meaning of 'too fast,'" he reassured, a single finger tracing a line down Magnus's jaw. "If anything, I think we've been going too slow."

Magnus took his hand from leaving his face, kissed the palm. "All right then."

Hot Rod laced his digits around Magnus's shoulder, the larger mech slowly pushing his chest forward. Both of them were silent as they concentrated, wires releasing themselves from their hold on the glowing orbs. Once free from their bindings, save with only one cord to serve as a life line, with a little thrust, the sparks slowly drifted from their chambers, up into the air. In that instant, their bodies suddenly felt weightless, programs hibernating as their power source dwindled.

They were just as shy as their owners had been. Both sparks paused before touching, just a few inches apart, glowing at one another, beating like a human heart. It was Magnus who gave his spark that little extra push forward. It complied and took up the free space between them, brushing ever so delicately against--

Magnus onlined his optics, just in time to see Hot Rod's whirl back on as well. "Your spark," the blue and white mech bumbled, shocked, "it's--"

"Sealed, I know," Hot Rod muttered, absolutely embarrassed. He bit into his curved bottom lip component. "I should have told you, I know. I guess I was just... well, you know. I've never really... been this... close to someone before, so I never really needed to... uh..." he trailed off, his words began to fumble along his glossa.

Soon after birth, either by Vector Sigma's doing or the combination of two Transformers' spark energy, the spark encased itself in a thin layer of protective metal. And something like an embryo, it grew inside the casing, which remained intact all until the mature adult chose to crack it open. In most cases, many kept their seals on until their first initial bonding, truly a romantic way to really free their spark and take a giant leap forward into maturity.

It didn't surprise Magnus entirely, however, that Hot Rod still had his casing. He figured someone with his personality and charm would have broken it a long time ago with some other femme or mech. Not to say his soldier struck him as an intimately friendly type, just someone who always yearned for compassion and another's touch. What did surprise him is that he had technically been saving himself for Magnus, who would be the one to break it.

"I've studied bonding, read about it, watched lots of stuff on the subject," Hot Rod said quickly, as if that hope of continuing was fading again. "I may not have any hands on training, but I know--I know enough about what to do."

Magnus quickly calmed the nervous mech. "It's all right," he replied kindly. "I just... Well, it's really... surprising. It just made me scatterbrained for a moment."

Hot Rod's face warmed again. "I was hoping you'd like it."

"I do," was the best Magnus would say. Really, his glossa was tied; this was so overwhelming. Beautiful but at the same time, it also raised the stakes higher. If he was to be Hot Rod's first, then he wanted it, needed it to be the most pleasurable experience he could provide. Magnus didn't want to leave the younger mech disappointed.

Hot Rod watched his superior, obviously waiting for some sort of reaction. Should he make the first move, or should the more experienced one do the leading? Magnus appeared relaxed by his arms which he was propped up on appeared to be shaking slightly. Scared or merely confused, it didn't bother Hot Rod. A little push on his end would probably do the trick.

So Hot Rod leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Magnus's neck and let his spark once more push against the others. Both mechs groaned and Magnus reacted with another press forward. Their sparks pulsed, energy washing through them, causing their bodies to creak softly. The strength of the pulses were not yet strong enough to break the sealing, but Hot Rod could still feel the warmth and what was being breathed into him by the blue orb.

Slow and steady, Magnus concluded, let the youngling ease into it. He didn't seem to be tormented by the speed either. Holding onto him, Magnus continued to grind his spark ever so delicately against the encased, flaming red one, letting Hot Rod become acquainted and familiar with the surges of energy that would soon be breaking his casing and flooding his systems. They were feather soft, ticklish and it made Hot Rod smile lopsidedly as he hung near limply from the taller mech's shoulders.

Magnus had picked up Hot Rod's desire demanding more when his spark glowed brighter, chassis grinding harder, as if tugging, nagging for more attention. He was happy to oblige, positive Hot Rod was ready. At least, as prepared as he could be for his first time. "If it gets too uncomfortable," Magnus said softly, holding onto the orange mech, "tell me and we can stop."

"That'd only suck for the both of us," Hot Rod sniggered. He wasn't going to pull out.

Magnus nodded faintly. "All right," he said, quietly, "here we go." And with one giant heave forward, the energy that had accumulated in his spark rushed forward with no filter. Hot Rod took it with a sharp gasping-esque noise, body jerking back, tempted to pull away and yet move closer. Magnus cut the pulse short and looked to him, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah," Hot Rod croaked. He shook the daze off with a chuckle. "Just--well, you know, the first wave is all..."

Magnus hesitated continuing but decided it was, indeed, too late to take a sudden turn around. So he gave another strong pulse, one a notch weaker than the first. Hot Rod took it with another grit of his teeth. But it seemed he knew his superior had decreased the energy, smirking, "Hey, don't be so gentle on me. I'm not built to be fragile."

"I know that," Magnus replied. He felt a little silly. "I just... don't want to hurt you, that's all."

Hot Rod shook his head. "That's pretty much impossible," he assured. To prove this, he pressed himself forward, and let the spark give him another small shock. It made him cry a little again, but nothing in it suggested pain. There came a small slice of light much brighter than the usual glow of his spark, causing both to look down at it. "Well, whatta know," Hot Rod laughed, "it cracked."

This made Magnus worry a little. He nodded. "Give two more pulses, it'll be completely broken, the seal," he reminded steadily.

"I'm ready for it," Hot Rod reassured, winking an optic.

Magnus stared at him before smiling. Hot Rod wasn't a sparkling anymore; he'd be fine. Maybe a little shaken, but he'd survive. So Magnus, without holding back, pushed forward, another wave of energy from his spark causing spider web cracks to spread over the sealed spark. Hot Rod dug his fingers into his shoulders, dental plates clenched together. Magnus took a moment to collect more energy before, with one final heave forward, the sealing ripped apart, spreading across and open the vibrating, hot red spark, disappearing in small specks that faded away to nothing once shed.

Now that his entire spark was bared, it wouldn't taken much more to make him overload. The spark was sensitive out in the open and over time, it would take more pulses and energy to make it overload. Magnus knew this would be the last before Hot Rod's systems let go and so he held the smaller mech closer, to steady his body for the initial shock that would come. Hot Rod flushed in those tight but secure arms, also aware this would be it. Just one more...

And Magnus ground forward, his spark letting out another gush of energy. Once it went through Hot Rod's entire spark, he could feel all the power in his body release like an implosion. Hot Rod cried softly deep in his throat, tightly wrapping himself around his superior. His overload sent a tsunami of power into Magnus's own spark and system, enough to draw him into his own release. He grunted softly, head pressed against Hot Rod's.

The glow between their bodies was bright, flooding the area in white, blue and red. They held each other intensely, waiting for the initial overload to fade. It took a minute but finally, their tired sparks relaxed, dimming to their average glow. The light faded and soon, with heavy sighs, the two were now relaxing in each others limbs, sagging arms.

Neither spoke for a few minutes. Their bodies adjusted to their average energy levels again, giving them little power to speak coherently. But Magnus was the first to recover, sitting back with the exhausted mech in his arms. "You all right?" he asked hoarsely.

Hot Rod nodded slightly. "Good..." he mumbled. He kept his head dropped against Magnus's chest, but rose a thumb's up. Magnus recognized that human gesture and grinned, relieved.

"You must be about ready to collapse in exhaustion," Magnus noted.

"S'fine..." Hot Rod murmured, head shaking a little.

Magnus placed a hand on top of his helm. "Go on into stasis. I'll have Kup reassign you for an evening shift just this once," he assured, his spark chamber and chest plates closing softly. Hot Rod's did the same, but not on his own accord. The younger mech had not responded, just laid there. Magnus shifted his head to the side, seeing Hot Rod's optics had offlined. He chuckled and gave Hot Rod's head another little rub before turning to peer out the window.

The sun had rose some time ago. Soft oranges and red mingled with the dwindling blue of the night. Somehow, it seemed fitting, those colors.

* * *

THE END

**A/N**: Magnus broke Roddy's cherry HURRRR. Also, I think kissing is nothing new to TFs, as I think Ariel pecked Orion on the cheek once. Well, whatever, I think it's cute when it's a foreign concept. 8]


End file.
